A Touch of Fear
by ananiah
Summary: AU. Pitch Black meddles. (Three hundred years in the future, there is no Jack Frost.)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: Chapter one takes place in the early seventeen hundreds. Chapter two takes place just after the Guardians defeated Pitch (not the one with Jamie). I drew several elements of this story from Superluminal, another fic of mine. I also referenced Doctor Who.

Originally intended to be a few hundred words long, this fic ran away from me into the realm of more than 5k. You're welcome. (And hopefully the Cyrillic made it through...) Un beta-edited.

Soundtrack: Please Don't Go, Barcelona; Amsterdam, Coldplay; Abigail's Song (Silence Is All You Know), Katherine Jenkins

* * *

Pitch interferes. (Three hundred years in the future, there is no Jack Frost.)

"Jack, I'm scared!" Emma cried.

They'd just wanted to go ice-skating.

Jack opened his mouth, the words "I know, I know, but you're going to be alright. You're not going to fall in. We're going to have a little fun instead" right on the tip of his tongue. But instead, fear punched a hole through his stomach. The words wouldn't come.

He was terrified. Terrified that he wouldn't save her, that he might die, that they both might...

"Jack, help me!"

And he wanted to. He wanted to so much. But the fear. It ate him alive. Jack uselessly stretched out his hands to his sister, just a bit too far away. "Emma," he choked out.

"Jack!" she screamed as the ice finally started to cave.

Fear of her dying so powerful his knees weakened hit him full force. And he couldn't do anything as his baby sister fell through to the cold water below.

* * *

Pitch was, to put it mildly, bored. And hungry. Starving.

Fear suddenly burst in front of his eyes, slate grey and sharp. Suspiciously wet.

Pitch teleported through the shadows to the fear's source and was confronted with two children and cracking ice.

_Delicious._

"Jack, I'm scared!" the young girl wailed, helpless.

A cruel smile crossed Pitch's face. He strode onto the ice confidently, not bothered that they couldn't see him. The boy's fear he could work with. Pitch reached out his hand and touched the boy's forehead, deceptively gentle.

All his fears bubbled to the surface, ugly shades of grey and green and blue mixed with nightmare sand.

"Jack, help me!"

"But he can't, little one," Pitch drawled, drinking in the boy's delicious fears. They were always better tinged with loss.

He turned away from the boy, drawn by the girl's fears of death, ice, and her brother.

"Emma!" he shouted again, suddenly unfreezing and stumbling forwards to the hole in the ice. Without even hesitating, he dove into the water.

But, and Pitch reveled in this information, he was too late.

* * *

"Jack, you lied to me. You said I'd be SAFE!" _You said I'd be safe! Said I'd be safe. I'd be safe, be safe, safe._

"I'm sorry," he'd say, he'd always say that but it never mattered, "I'm so sorry, Emma."

And she'd lean over and whisper in his ear, "I don't want your sorries, brother mine. I want you dead."

* * *

They said he was crazy. Eyes shadowed and bruised, clothes ripped.

They said he was a ghost, no one saw him.

They said he was dangerous, he let his sister die.

They didn't know the first thing about him.

* * *

The dreams chased Jack over land and sea, from Massachusetts to Austria to Cairo.

_I want you dead._

And he started to say, "Me too, Em."

* * *

Pitch was bored again. He found Jack's fears sour with depression, and he didn't like them one bit.

A nightmare nibbled the sleeping boy's hair, and Pitch swatted it away. "Not tonight, Emma."

A wave of bitter fear swept over Jack anyway.

Pitch glared at the nightmare and flew off to terrorize a British tax collector instead.

* * *

Jack wound up in the East Indies somehow, on some fishing boat.

The dreams keep following him, but they've taken on a sweeter tone. Emma forgives him now.

* * *

Pitch wound up in the East Indies somehow, on a nasty-smelling fishing boat. The nightmare Emma keeps following Jack, but he holds her back. He still doesn't know why.

"No, this one." Pitch pointed to another shirt. "Blue suits you better."

Jack's hand moved from the gray shirt to the blue one, edged in silver.

"Matches your eyes." Pitch shook his head and disappeared into the shadows. Why did he say that?

* * *

Jack's eyes were blue. He had no idea, though. It'd been years since he'd looked in a mirror.

Pitch looked up at the moon. "You meddling, star-crossing fool."

* * *

The next time Pitch saw Jack, the boy—young man—wore a blue shirt with silver trim. He worked at a surprisingly mundane bookshop, sweeping floors and recommending books.

Emma the nightmare nudged Pitch's hand questioningly. Pitch had grown to loathe the little thing, the pain it brought. Fear was clean, sharp. Pain was confusing, unending.

He dissolved Emma with a flick of his wrist.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that. I think you knew this time would come, old friend. Well, you were right."

* * *

Pitch sighed and doodled little butterflies on a piece of scrap paper. "Jack, Jack, Jack... When will you learn? She doesn't like romances, she likes you."

Jack picked out Romeo and Juliet. "Hope ya like a good tragedy."

She took it and blushed.

Pitch laughed, surprised to find the sound wasn't his usual dark chuckle.

* * *

Jack cleaned up the shop one last time before closing. A scrap of paper with butterflies drawn on it in black ink lay on the counter.

* * *

Days later, Pitch returned to the little bookshop. He leafed through fresh copies of Christopher Marlowe and Antoine Galland. A Thousand and One Nights.

He left the book on the counter when no one was looking.

* * *

This was getting strange. Jack kept finding little things everywhere he looked. A length of Persian silk, chain mail links, jade animals, a golden lily, coins from China.

Who kept leaving them?

* * *

"Ah, good choice. Jonathan Swift. It was an odd satire, to say the least, but I enjoyed it." Pitch had gotten into the habit of talking aloud to Jack.

Why, he'd never know. Somewhere deep inside him, the remains of that golden general had started to crack his cage. Emma. Oh, he hated those two syllables.

But not her.

Jack thumbed through the pamphlet and opened to page one.

* * *

Pitch stared up at the moon. "You did this to me. Clever, very clever..."

The moon seemed to shine brighter.

"Don't look so optimistic. I might be preparing his demise now."

Pitch glared at the stupid silver disk in the sky. "I know you're laughing, Tsar."

And the moon was.

* * *

Why did he kill Emma? It was his fault, _all his fault._ WHY? ...No it wasn't.

IT WAS DON'T DENY IT this is all _your_ doing, every last bit of it

You,

You and your silly fear.

Silly,

Silly

Little

Fear.

* * *

He left Jack a piece of smooth onyx, black as night, and a piece of Baltic amber, gold as the sunrise.

* * *

_**I know you hear me.**_

Go away.

_**Oh, please. Stop being so childish. I will never go away.**_

For the love of the stars, leave me alone.

_**You killed that girl. Emma.**_

Yes, I did.

_**You killed her.**_

AND I'M SORRY!

_**You are?**_

...Yes. Yes, I am. All thanks to you.

_**You're welcome.**_

Just leave me alone.

_**Ah, but you are alone.**_

* * *

"Okay, who keeps leaving stuff around the shop?" Jack asked, when they'd all gathered in one place to order new books. "Thanks, but I have a ton of stuff now!"

No one answered. "A poltergeist?" the owner suggested.

* * *

Jack was alone in the shop. Sunday evenings weren't very busy.

"H... Hey, poltergeist. Ghost. Whatever. Demon? I just wanna see you. Once is fine."

He waited nervously for half an hour, but no one appeared.

* * *

Pitch returned from Russia a day too late.

"Jack?" he called, more out of habit than hope that Jack would hear him.

The owner of the bookshop hung a "help wanted" sign in the store window. To his assistant, he said, "Too bad Overland's decided to move back to America. He was a nice lad."

Pitch teleported to the nearest shipyard. "Jack?" The brown-haired boy was nowhere in sight.

"Jack!"

Finally, he spotted that blue and silver shirt in the distance. Against his instincts, Pitch walked right next to Jack in the faint sunlight. "You know, you shouldn't just run off to America without telling a man."

"What's it to you?" Jack asked.

Pitch nearly fell over.

* * *

"Are you a demon, then? Not that it matters."

"I am the Nightmare King, silly boy. Demons run from me."

"So... Are you an angel?"

"Certainly not. Whatever gave you that foolish idea?"

"N-nothing. Why do you follow me around? Were you the one who kept leaving me gifts?"

"Liar, I don't know, yes."

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't. Why are you going to America again?"

"Well... It's America."

"You know there's a rebellion in North Carolina?"

"Oh."

"I do. I started it." Pitch grinned with slightly pointed teeth. And he teleported away through the shadows.

Jack took a ship to Spain instead.

* * *

"Hey, Pitch!" Jack shouted over the sea spray. "Gimme a hand!"

The shadow spirit rolled his eyes. "Fine." He helped Jack furl the sail, hissing when salt stung his eyes.

Jack slipped on the deck, and Pitch let out a cry. The Nightmare King grabbed Jack's ankle as he slid by and hauled him back to his feet. "Don't do that again," he threatened. He could make Jack scared of the water. He could give him a nightmare that lasted days about the ocean-

"Aw, you do care," Jack quipped, still clearly shaken.

Pitch sighed gustily at the flippant man. He'd never learn.

* * *

"I had a dream."

Pitch hummed noncommittally.

"Are you humming noncommittally at me?"

Pitch hummed again.

"Ugh. It was about Emma again."

"Your little sister."

"How did you know?"

"I am the Nightmare King, after all. You dreamed she had a black horse with her."

"...Yeah."

"Well, that's impossible. I killed that one personally."

"You did that?"

"It was a moment of weakness."

* * *

Jack saw Pitch sporadically. Once, the shadow man disappeared for an entire year with no warning.

"Pitch!" Jack nearly hugged the tall, lanky man. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Jack. It has been too long."

"Where were you?" he asked.

"Oh, here and there." Pitch bared his slightly pointy teeth. India, Russia, Easter Island, Santoff Claussen...

"You look beat. Want something to drink?"

"...Do you live here?"

"Rude. I'll get some tea."

* * *

"No one sees you," Jack commented one day.

Pitch winced. "Yes. But you do."

"Pitch... Hey, don't you dare disappear again! ...damn."

* * *

_**You like him, don't you?**_

YOU AGAIN!

_**Of course you do. He sees you, he talks to you like an equal. Don't deny it. You have a heart after all.**_

I do _not_-

_**Please. I can see it, plain as day. I'm not blind.**_

I'm not sure who you are anymore.

_**And isn't that the point? Silly you.**_

* * *

"Sit. Stay. Have a biscuit."

"I am not your dog." Pitch dug into his pockets and dumped a handful of small metal pieces on Jack's table.

Jack sighed. "You certainly don't obey like one."

"I am not the obedient kind, Jack Overland. I am a king, and I dominate." He fiddled absently with a little golden locket.

"What's that?" Jack slid a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits over to Pitch. England was really rubbing off on him.

"Mind your own business."

Jack snatched the locket from Pitch's hands, fingers nimble and quick. "Wow, who's she?"

"My—Seraphina Pitchiner."

"Your daughter, huh? Well, she's really beautiful. Looks like you too."

Kozmotis protested this statement. The suppressed spirit was currently doing the mental equivalent of watching through his eyes, eating popcorn.

Oh, he hated Jack Overland.

* * *

"What did I say?!" Jack yelled, frustrated. "Pitch! Please come back."

The Nightmare King was nowhere to be found.

* * *

"He's using you, Jack."

"Emma? How do you know about Pitch?"

"Oh, dear brother, you know nothing. Pitch Black brought about the end of a golden age. He destroyed whole worlds and cast the universe into darkness. And you're giving him _tea and biscuits_."

"Look, I know him—"

"But do you? Please. He's dangerous, more dangerous than you know. Forget him."

"He's my friend."

"He killed me."

"Wh... What?"

"Fear. That is his domain. Fear and darkness and nightmares. Remember the fear you felt, brother mine, the day I died?"

"You're not my sister!"

"Oh, but I am. Somewhat." Emma laughed, the sound chilling and alien.

"Emma..."

"Times are changing, brother. Are you ready to change with them?"

* * *

"Tell me. Did you kill my sister?"

Pitch's heart froze. "Yes. But-"

"Go. Go away. Leave me alone."

"Jack—"

"GO! Please."

"You want to be alone? Then be alone!" Pitch yelled. He teleported away and didn't care where he ended up.

"Why?" Jack whispered. "Why her? Why are you haunting me? What do you want?"

* * *

It's you, you did this.

_**Yes. I did do this. He deserved to know the truth.**_

I don't want to hurt him.

_**You already have. You killed his sister and plagued him with that nightmare, Emma.**_

I killed Emma twice, in case you didn't know.

_**He hates you now. He HATES you.**_

...I know.

* * *

"This is your fault! Make him go away make him GO AWAY I can't stand him anymore please."

-pitch?-

"Honestly, I'm not sure anymore... he's too strong."

-oh. hello, kozmotis. i've missed you.-

"Ah, old friend, but I'm not Kozmotis. I'm Pitch Black. Or, I think I am."

-impossible.-

"He's changed. I've changed."

-who is who?-

"You expect me to know?"

-this is not my doing. i am sorry. -

"Liar."

* * *

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Ah, brother. You're so silly. One would almost think you... _loved_ that chunk of fear and shadow."

"I don't!"

"He's your friend, you said so."

"Not anymore. He killed you."

"No, Jack. You killed me. You could've overcome his fear! Didn't you love me?"

"I did. I do."

"So it's your fault. All your fault YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT-"

* * *

"Jack, I'm sorry I accidentally killed your sister." Pitch shook his head vehemently. "No, no, all wrong."

"Jack, I don't want you to forgive me. What I did was wrong. But I killed your nightmare... no." What was he doing wrong?

"Jack, I don't have any... sly phrases, tricks up my sleeve to convince you to even talk to me. I just wanted to say... I'll miss you." Pitch tilted his head at the fearling strapped to the wall before him.

"Definitely the wrong audience." He frowned at the shadow being, and it cringed. Without another moment's pause, Pitch slashed the fearling open with one sword stroke.

"Jack, I'm sorry. You'll never see me again."


	2. Chapter 2

Jack still talked to Pitch, when he forgot for a moment the shadow king killed Emma.

And he hated how much he missed him. He shouldn't.

* * *

"Pitch?" Jack addressed the darkest shadows in the closet of his London house. "Pitch... I'm kind of sorry I yelled at you like that. I just... This is stupid. I miss you.

"Oh, this is dumb. You're never coming back."

* * *

Pitch heard Jack's voice, echoing through shadow and space.

He nervously sheathed his sword and stepped through into... Jack's closet?

"Ugh, haven't you heard of doing your laundry?" Pitch wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Pitch!" Jack grinned goofily. "What do you have that sword for?"

"Ah. It's... A relic from a bygone age. Its name is Zarya." Pitch nodded at Jack. "Hello."

"I... ah..."

"Jack, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. Even though two little words can't fix anything." Pitch fiddled with the sheath's leather strap.

"Pitch, you're the most confusing person I've ever met. And that's not a complement." Jack eyed the sword again. "Uh, is that thing glowing?"

Pitch seemed unconcerned. "Yes, it is. Zarya means 'lightbringer' in the language of the Constellations."

"Um. I see...?"

"I couldn't be around it for the longest time."

"...Pitch, are you alright?"

"Of course."

"You've never talked about your past before."

"Now it's different."

* * *

Pitch regaled Jack with tales of a bygone age, of a man in the moon and a general of gold. They lived in a golden age, where dreams came true and wishing stars did grant wishes. Jack asked after their language, since he spoke so many after traveling so much.

Pitch barely remembered how to speak the language, but after a moment, he said in a soft whisper, "Zveznya tenouk a svalun. Tvet yara sableda et zarel."

"What does that mean?" Jack asked.

"Long live the Golden Age. Hope and light always remain. More or less. The last were the words of House Lunanoff."

* * *

"Hey, so... Is that sword the one you were talking about? The one that repelled shadows?"

"Yes."

"How can you stand to be near it if you're made of shadow?"

"The Guardians." And you.

* * *

Звэзлйа тэнук а свалун. Твэт йара саблэьда эь зарэл.

* * *

"Pitch Black? With Zarya? Impossible, you must have heard wrong." Tooth shook her head. "He can't get near it, it repels shadows."

"I know what I saw," Bunny insisted. "I'd know that thing anywhere."

_Moon-shadow-Pitch-moonbeam-Kozmotis?_ Sandy suggested.

"Manny would've done it a long time ago if he could've, Sandy."

* * *

"You're a strange one, Jackson Overland. You like the shadows."

* * *

_Gecko-Pitch-binoculars_, Sandy announced.

"You are spying on Pitch with dreamsand gecko?" North guessed.

Sandy nodded. _Pitch-man-handshake_.

"There's... someone he made a deal with?" Tooth tried.

The Sandman shook his head. Pitch-man-smiley-face-rainbow.

"He's friends with someone?" Bunny asked.

_Check-mark. Man-smiley-face-Pitch-glasses-rose._

"The guy sees Pitch through rose tinted glasses!" Tooth shouted triumphantly after a long moment.

Sandy nodded again and gave her two thumbs up.

"Then he's in danger?"

The little man sighed dramatically, a golden X appearing over his head. _Pitch-plus-sign-man-equals-smiley_.

"What?!"

"How is this making any sense?"

* * *

"You used to be all... Scary. Taller too, I think."

"It was the Guardians. If you must know."

Jack looked confused. "The who? That's the second time you mentioned them."

"The watchers." Pitch unsheathed the sword, fingers running over the runes etched in the blade.

"Angels?" Jack tilted his head and stared at the vaguely Cyrillic characters.

"In a certain light."

"What's that say?"

Pitch held the sword up so the flat of the blade caught the light. "I am Lightbringer, Star of Morning and Sword of the Golden General."

"Fancy."

"Perhaps overtly so. I always-Kozmotis always hated that. He favored simple things."

"Who did?"

"Oh, Jack. How little you know."

* * *

He asked, "Pitch, why do you never age?"

"I'm immortal, obviously."

"Yeah. Is it weird, watching me get older? You've known me for seven years."

"Surprisingly so. I keep expecting to see you as you were."

Jack laughed. "And I'm always surprised by how not-vicious you are."

Pitch matched his smile. "Is that a challenge?"

"Possibly," Jack said.

"Stand up. Hold this." Pitch tossed a fire poker to Jack.

"You with that sword, me with this poker?"

"Me with nothing, actually." Pitch took off the scabbard and leaned the huge sword against the door. "I just figured the sword would be too heavy for you. What are you waiting for?"

Jack's smile faded. He didn't really know how to sword fight, but he feinted a jab at Pitch's left arm.

The Nightmare King didn't even flinch.

Jack swung the poker in a circle, attempting to whack Pitch's other shoulder. Pitch moved once, sweeping the poker around and down with one hand. It spun away from Jack's grasp and clattered to the floor.

Jack blinked once, and Pitch slammed him back into a wall. "How was that?" he asked, slightly pointed teeth bared. His eyes glowed silver, edged in gold. Unearthly.

"Nice teeth." Jack tried to act flippant, heart pounding.

"Thank you," he said. Pitch pulled away from Jack and chuckled. "Scary enough for you?"

"Definitely." Jack attempted a smile.

Pitch picked his sword up again, its gold sheath glittering in the faint sunlight. _Light and shadow_, he thought, and wasn't quite sure why.

* * *

Jack celebrated his twenty-fourth birthday with a sullen shadow spirit.

"Happy birthday, Jack." Pitch held out a dolefully wrapped gift. He'd used soft black silk and cord to tie it up.

"Aw, thanks, Pitch. You didn't have to get me anything." Jack smiled and took the present.

Pitch deadpanned, "It's traditional for humans to gift others items on the day of their birth."

"What did you all do back in the day?" Jack wondered.

"When I was in the Golden Army, whenever a soldier had a birthday, he or she would drink a shot glass of vodka for every year they'd lived."

"That's harsh."

"But enjoyable."

"You did it, too?"

Pitch grinned. "Five minutes, thirty-six shot glasses."

"...good thing I'm only turning twenty-four."

* * *

"Wow. This must be worth a fortune. Where'd you get it?"

"A spaceship. It's from the ship's star converter."

"What's that? Which part is this?"

"You're always so full of questions. The star converter turned stars into energy. That is a _dveredach_, a double gear."

"It's amazing."

"You're a tricky man to buy for."

"Pitch, when's your birthday?"

"In human years... July seventeenth. In Lunar years, the first of Laèria. An auspicious day."

"How so?"

"In no way that would make sense to you."

* * *

Jack stared down the line of shots. "And you're sure this is safe?"

"Of course I am," Pitch reassured him. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Easy for you to say, you're immortal." Jack picked up the first glass and drank it all. Then the second.

Pitch laughed at his expression and said, "You clearly don't know how to drink. Amusingly enough for this day and age. You don't sip shots."

Jack glared and drank the fifth pointedly.

"Oh, please." Pitch grabbed an empty glass, filling it with liquor. "Like this." He threw back the glass and slammed it back on the table.

Making a face, Jack copied the motion and started coughing.

Pitch followed him shot for shot until there's no more vodka left.

* * *

Jack giggled. "You did what?"

"It was once!" Pitch protested, aiming to swat Jack but missing.

"Yeah, but you're Mr. Fancy General! Oh, bet the brass hated that..." he giggled again.

"A man can't sing a drinking song in his wife's clothes once," Pitch said solemnly.

* * *

In the future, the moon talks to the king of shadow...

-why are you doing this, pitch? jack would never have wanted it-

"Because I'm selfish."

-selfish?-

"I opened that gate and let the fearlings out because I was selfish. I put my thoughts, my worries, before those of an entire galaxy of people."

-pitch. when did you start thinking of yourself as kozmotis? when?-

"I-"

-who are you? answer me this. who are you?-

"A man whose soul is pitch black."

-words. truth is singular, lies are plural. one word.-

"...Both."

-he changed you.-

"I believe the people of today would say, 'no duh' in this instance."

-you miss him.-

"Old friend, you have an uncanny talent for pointing out the obvious."

-pitch...-

"What?"

-stop this now. jack doesn't want you to keep killing.-

"I'll stop when you give him back. And when you stop lying."

-i never lie.-

"Ah, isn't that the truth?"

* * *

Jack woke up with a pounding headache and remembered why he never drank. "...Pitch?"

"Yes?"

The bastard sounded fine.

"Turn off the sun," Jack muttered.

"You have a surprisingly low alcohol tolerance." Pitch pulled the blinds shut with a snap.

"Stoppit..." He rolled away from the window, wishing for sleep. "The last things I need right now are your insults."

"Good night, Jack. Sweet dreams..."

* * *

"I hate seeing him grow older. It's been six-no, seven years, and I can't stand it anymore.

"One day, he'll be gone."

The fearling whimpered pitifully.

"I don't want him to go." Pitch drove the sword into the ground, sending shadows scrambling for their lives. The fearling stared in terror at the sword, bare inches from its face.

He growled at the thing, drawing Zarya from the ground and sinking the point into the shadow's heart. The other fearlings shrieked as one and swarmed down on Pitch.

* * *

"Now, no more disobeying, agreed? Otherwise I will not regret finishing this."

The shadows fled into the gloom, leaving behind fallen nightmare men and general destruction. Pitch nearly gasped in relief and leaned heavily on his sword. "...Good riddance."

* * *

"All the shadows just bolted from the place. I'm telling you, something's up!" Bunny insisted.

North brushed him off. "This does not mean a thing! They are shadows. Who knows why they act the way they act?"

"It's not normal, even for them!"

"Bunny... I really don't think it's that important. We have other worries at the moment." Tooth nibbled her lip.

"Fine. If you galahs think it doesn't matter, fine. I'm gonna go check it out by myself." Bunny opened a tunnel just as Sandy waved his hands. "What?"

The little golden man jumped into the tunnel.

"Oh. Alright, then." The tunnel closed behind the two, leaving a snowbell in its place.

* * *

"You live here?" Jack stared up at the cave's ceiling and wondered why there was a staircase up there. Metal cages with no apparent purpose hung from the upside down rooms on the ceiling.

"Yes."

Jack surprised Pitch by running around the shadow realm, looking under everything. "This is pretty cool. What's with all the wrecked stuff? Redecorating?"

"Shadows."

"You're a real conversationalist today."

"Thank you."

Jack explored the rest of the realm and gets lost more times than he can count. The walls kept shifting, rearranging themselves into Escherian patterns. Then he saw a faint glimmer of golden light coming from an open door. He reached into his pocket for the double gear, glowing with a similar light.

* * *

_Stop-sign!_ Sandy said urgently, a gold sign waving in Bunny's face.

"What?" Bunny pricked his ears.

_Shush_, Sandy reprimanded.

"Someone's coming."

Sandy shot him a look that said, _No duh, Cottontail_.

"Oi! Get back here!"

* * *

Jack held the gear out in front of him like a torch. Maybe Pitch's spaceship was back here...

A very short, golden man floated out from around the corner. He held his hands out to Jack, pacifying.

"Who're you?" he demanded.

A tall, dark shape followed the golden man. "I was just gonna ask you the same thing."

"I'm Jackson Overland. And you are?" He put on more bravado than he felt.

"Bunny. The Easter Bunny. And this is my friend, Sandy."

_Sand-plus-man_, he added.

"The Sandman and the Easter Bunny? I've seen some weird stuff before, but-"

"You're the one who's hanging with Pitch?"

Jack snapped, "Yes, I am. Got a problem, Cottontail?"

* * *

"Jack?" Pitch called. "Oh, for the love of..." He strode around the corner and walked straight into the Sandman. "...Gate crashing, are we?"

* * *

"Listen, mate, Pitch is nothing but bad news. You shouldn't even be able to see the guy. Or us."

"Pitch told me about you. And the Man in the Moon. I can see you because he made me believe in you. Ironically." Jack crossed his arms.

The Sandman tugged on the kangaroo's fur urgently, pointing to the gear in Jack's hand. _Star-gold-time_.

"Pitch gave it to me, it's mine."

"Stardust? Really?" Bunny reached out for the gear.

Jack snatched his hand back and ran.

* * *

"Where did Jack go?" Pitch demanded, glaring at the intruding Guardians. "Tell me."

Sandy shrugged. _Running-shoes_, he explained.

Pitch spun around and ran into the gloom of the shadow realm. "Jack!" It wasn't safe in here by far. Oh, what was he thinking, bringing Jack down here?

A nightmare man ran past, and then another. And another. He whistled for Endymion, his only nightmare now the Emma-nightmare was gone.

Pitch grabbed Endymion's mane and swung onto the animal's back. His horse's golden eyes regarded Pitch warily, but the nightmare wouldn't dare throw him. They traveled down the realm's gloomy halls.

Pitch saw a flash of blue and silver among the grey. He reined in the nightmare and jumped off, unsheathing Zarya at the same time and landing in front of Jack.

"I thought we had an agreement," he snarled at the shadows. Endymion whinnied, trotting over to his side.

The nightmare men and fearlings circled them warily, and some snapped at Pitch experimentally.

"Jack, are you alright?" he hissed, slashing at a nightmare man.

"N-no," Jack stuttered. His fear washed over Pitch, not nearly as sweet as they were the first time. Death-laced fear laid heavy and bitter on his tongue.

Pitch didn't like that at all.

* * *

Sandy lashed out at the nightmare men with his sand whips, cutting into the thick shadows. By his side, Bunny threw egg bombs and his boomerangs with unerring accuracy.

Uncountable shadow beings swarmed them from all sides, and finally Bunny yelled, "Let's get outta here!"

Sandy shook his head. Sand spelled out the word "Jack" in cursive.

A huge, black horse galloped down the hallway towards the Guardians. It looked woven with shadow, striking fear into their hearts. Bunny wasn't sure why the thing was so terrifying, but it was.

Pitch Black reined up beside them and said silkily, "You look in need of assistance. Care for some help?"

"In your dreams, Pitch," Bunny snapped. "Jack!"

The boy clung to Pitch for dear life, blue eyes wide. A nightmare man reached for his ankle, but Bunny kicked it away and hit it with a boomerang.

"Do you want a repeat of three days ago?" Pitch demanded of the shadows. "Because I grow tired of your disobedience..."

The fearlings fell over themselves in their rush to get away from him.

"That's a neat trick," Bunny commented drily.

Pitch unclasped Jack's arms from around his waist, jumping down from the horse and helping Jack down as well. "It's not a trick. They obey me. Usually. Now get out."

"Now, hold on a moment-"

"You come into my house uninvited, you aggravate my nightmare men, you scare my friend, and you expect to walk out of here with him unharmed. Get. Out." Pitch didn't so much as glance their way. He held Jack's hand, the one slashed by a nightmare man, and started wrapping it up carefully with a strip of black fabric.

"Hold on a minute-"

"Hey. Cottontail," Jack said. "Why do you think Pitch is bad? He's-"

"Done nothing wrong?" Bunny asks skeptically.

Sandy winced.

The boy glared frostily at Bunny. "Someone hasn't been paying attention."

* * *

A lightbulb went off over Sandy's head. _Triangle-fearling-Pitch-ingot-clock-Pitch!_

"What? No way in Hell," Bunny said.

"Someone care to explain...?" Jack asked tentatively.

Pitch grit his teeth and grabbed both Guardians, teleporting into the shadows. "And stay out!" He dumped them in the snow outside Santoff Claussen and left.

"No," he said sharply to Jack when he returned. "I would not care to explain."

* * *

Pitch was off in Africa when he felt it. A spark of Jack's fear that overwhelmed.

He dropped everything and bolted, flying through shadow faster than blinking. "Jack?!" he yelled frantically. "Jack!"

Fire. Fire there's too much fire heat but shadows are cold, cold, cold light heat and Jack.

"Just ran in there like that. Poor man."

"There was a kid in there, Phillip. I'd've gone in there... Maybe..."

Pitch's knees buckled. No, he wasn't just gone. Not like that...

He stayed there for a long time, until the full moon rose in the distance.

* * *

"I never told him. I never told him." Pitch fisted his hands in the nightmare's mane. "Why?"

* * *

"Bring him back, you damn star-crossing fool! Or else I'll... Just bring him back," Pitch pleaded to the distant silver moon. "Please," he whispered.

* * *

(He was scared. The fire raged inside the house, so hot the heat seared his face two hundred feet away. But there were still people trapped inside!

Jack heard the faint cry of a child from the second floor, and didn't hesitate another moment to rush inside.

He picked up the terrified child and actually made it back down to the first floor.)

* * *

It was warm. No, it was burning. And he was so, so scared. But the moon, it filled the sky and chased the fear away.

Blackened wood and embers surrounded him, the skeleton of a burned-down house.

His name was Jack Light. How did he know that?

The moon told him.

* * *

Pitch never really thought he had a heart. But if he did...

Pitch's heart froze. Did he dare hope? "Jack!"

"Hello?" The young man turned around quickly, autumn colored eyes wide. "Oh, hi! Didn't see you there. Who are you?"

And Pitch felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

* * *

-it was to protect him, you know.-

"Protect him? Don't make me laugh."

-he did die, after all. would you like to remember death?-

* * *

"Why can't they see us, Mr. Black?"

"Pitch. Call me Pitch. And it's because we're spirits. They only see us if they believe in us."

"That's cool, being a spirit... even if not everyone believes in you. What kind of spirit are you? You're not Death, right?"

"I'm the Nightmare King."

"And what am I?"

"I don't know, Jack. But you have plenty of time to find out."

"...Pitch?"

"Yes?"

"I'm really glad you're here. If you weren't... I think I'd have gone crazy, wondering why no one could see me."

* * *

Three hundred long years in the future, there is no need for the Last Light.

There never will be.


End file.
